The morning sun blazed overhead, its warmth mocking the storm that had torn through the night before. Moisture hung thick in the air, and scattered clouds offered blessed relief from the heat. For a day edging toward winter, it was perfect.
At least on the surface. Joseph's sharp eyes could say the same about this village.
He entered with hands bound, a single guard trailing behind.
The dirt path stretched between rows of houses—some boasting neat gardens, others drowning in overgrown grass and neglected walkways. Quality varied wildly: sturdy homes stood beside structures that barely qualified as mud huts.
Behind each dwelling lay farms of different sizes. Joseph spotted crops and creatures that almost resembled cows grazing in the distance where men worked—except these beasts towered larger, gleamed golden, and sported twisted horns.
